


Of Dragons, Gryphons, and Witches

by TrashcanKitty



Series: The Balance [2]
Category: Winx Club
Genre: Ceremonies, Cult Things, Cults, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Joining the Coven Fully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 21:50:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18507766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashcanKitty/pseuds/TrashcanKitty
Summary: It was time to make a stand, to truly give herself over to the Coven, to the Ancestral Witches, and to Valtor. No turning backs, no worries of regrets. Griffin was ready to bind herself to them, to him, and become a leader in their quest. After all, so few witches and wizards ever received the honor of becoming a true member of the Ancestral Coven. Even fewer have ever been honored to be Valtor's bonded. How could she ever deny them?





	Of Dragons, Gryphons, and Witches

**Of Dragons, Gryphons, and Witches**

 

 

Griffin could feel her nerves tingling, every part of her alive and feeling the magic in the air. She was alone in a room of the Obsidian Palace, waiting to be summoned.

It was a bedroom with a balcony view, something she’d have made a remark about had she not been feeling so nervous.

She tried to focus on the room, to keep herself from starting to panic. Lilac paint with white trim was on the walls. Landscape paintings and portraits of Coven members past aligned all but one wall.

A symbol was marked on the door and far right wall, a triangle with colored points: red, white, purple, with a black dragon encircled in the middle. The Coven’s mark.

_Rap. Rap. Rap._

She was drawn from her thoughts as the knock came at the door. “Enter.” She tried to project authority and confidence, tried to rid herself of her nerves.

Zatura came in, a lovely vision in her white dress. It was a simple dress with a rope based belt around her waist. Off the shoulder with short sleeves, with a slight v-neck. Her black hair was pulled into a long braid down her back.

“Still feeling nervous?” She asked, sitting on the bed. King sized, with lilac coverings.

“I am.” She bit her lip. “I thought we were supposed to wear black…?” She asked, tilting her head and gesturing to the dress she wore.

A black dress, made in the same manner as Zatura’s, just a different color. Her hair was braided back too, a long single braid down her back. Zatura chuckled. “The color is only meant to symbolize who you answer to.”

She gestured to her dress. “I and a few others wear white, to symbolize Belladonna. She’s our true mentor and who we follow.” She paused. “Mandragora will be wearing purple, symbolizing Lysslis. That’s her true mentor.” She paused again, thinking. “Darkar will be wearing red, symbolizing Tharma.”

“Then why am I-”

“Valtor.” Zatura chuckled. “Actually, you’ll be lucky. You’re the only who wears his color. Which means you’ll be wearing his mark.” Griffin paused.

“Explain a little better?” Griffin asked.

“Each of the original members has a Mark. A Coat of Arms if you will. I have an intricate snowflake on my back. Remember?”

“I just assumed it was a tattoo.” Zatura shook her head.

“It’s not. It’s the Mark of Belladonna. I share it with ten others. Darkar, if you’ve ever looked close enough to his forearm, has a lightning strike. Mandragora has an encircled eye and star on her stomach.” Griffin paused.

“And me?”

“I don’t know. Valtor was never interested in having someone around before.” She paused. “You see, the mark is like a gateway of sorts. It… It lets you feel and feed off of the power of the others in your group. Like those of us who follow Belladonna have her powers flowing through us because of her mark.” Griffin gave a nod.

“Okay. I think I can handle that.” She took a deep breath. “So… What am I supposed to do right now? Or is there anything I need to do?” Zatura chuckled, resting a hand on Griffin’s shoulder.

“Relax. I’m here to keep your nerves calm while the preparations are finished. And don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. He’d never hurt you.” Griffin took a breath.

“I know. I know.” She bit her lip. “What should I expect?”

“Nothing more than reciting a few things. Sort of an oath if you will. You get the mark. You bond with us with a little power sharing. Nothing major. And then we all go back. Occasionally we all meet up here at the Castle to discuss what’s going on in our revolution. Give reports.” She gave a smile. “You’ll be wonderful.” Griffin smiled, a true smile this time.

“It sounds wonderful.” Zatura chuckled.

“It is.” She took Griffin’s hand. “It’s also a huge honor. Do you know how many witches and wizards would kill to be in your shoes right now? Not just to be a part of the Inner Circle, but to be Valtor’s partner and mentoree? That’s huge.” Griffin blushed a bit.

“I’m aware. I also know of someone who would probably kill me if she could.” Zatura laughed.

“Fiona is nothing. So she’s a dark realm princess. Big deal. She’s not half the witch you are.” Zatura grinned. “Our Mistresses know it and Valtor knows it. Besides… She’s a non-issue. Tharma already tapped her.” Griffin made a face.

“Great. So she is part of this.”

“But not how you are. Not like you will be.” Zatura looked to the clock. “It’s almost time… Any last minute doubts?”

Griffin paused before standing. “No. I’m ready.”

 

\-----------------------------------

 

Zatura led Griffin down the hallway and into a dimly lit room. Candles were the only source of light, set up in strategic areas to resemble the marks in the room Griffin had previously been in.

She could make out a few people. Women dressed similarly to her and Zatura, men in loose shirts and trousers, also in color corresponding to whom their master was.

She was led into the center of the room by Zatura. “You did well, take your place.” Belladonna’s voice commanded. Zatura bowed, making her way toward the other white wearers.

The candle lights became brighter, showing more of the room. Sitting in the front were Belladonna, Tharma, and Lysslis, Valtor to their side.

The Ancient Witches stood, encircling Griffin. She stood her ground, kept her head level, looking ahead, into Belladonna’s eyes.

“We’re here to welcome Griffin Sylvane into our Inner Circle. So far she’s proven herself an asset to us, she’s eager to learn our magic and our skills and is quick to even improve upon them.” Belladonna started.

“She’s proven her might, standing before those who would oppose us and taking them down.” Tharma continued.

“And she’s done what not even we could do, stop a Dragon Fire Heir in their tracks.” Lysslis finished. A slow start of applause started and ended, just with a signal.

“Griffin, you understand that by standing here before us and pledging yourself to our service, there is no backing down, no way of leaving. Correct?” Belladonna asked.

“I’m aware and accept everything that comes with being one of the Inner Circle.” Griffin kept her eyes ahead.

“You understand that the brotherhood and sisterhood of these members is most important? That we are all a family and that we only take care of our own? That we are priority?” Tharma asked.

“I do. And I accept what comes with it.”

“Are you ready to accept your pledge to us? To recite the rites, to truly begin?” Lysslis asked. Griffin took a breath, this time her gaze searching out Valtor. He gave a slow nod, a smile.

“I am.” The Ancestral Witches stayed in their points but moved in the room, still staying in a triangular pattern. Valtor stepped, taking Griffin’s wrists in both hands.

“Do you pledge yourself to me? That I am your partner? That we will be bonded in magic, blood, mind, and soul?” Valtor asked, not needing to voice the other form of bond they had. “Do you pledge to stand with me and the Coven, to aid us in our quest to change the tone of the magical dimension?”

Griffin gave a nod. “I pledge it.” Valtor released her wrists and rolled up one of his sleeves, pulling out a knife. One with symbolic colors and symbols. He handed it to her, extending one of his arms.

“Not too deep, just a surface wound.” He whispered. She nodded, a bit shaky. She made a small cut on his arm. Blood came to the surface and he took the knife from her, taking one of her wrists.

“Last chance to back out.” He whispered.

“Not a chance.” She gave a smile, moving the arm he held. “Do it.” He gave a nod, giving her a small cut to match his. They pressed the wounds together.

“Repeat after me.” He told her, starting the chant. She followed along, feeling the power surge between them and the blood, creating a seal. The symbol.

Soon the rest of the room began to chant, their powers channeling in as well. The Ancestral Witches brought out their crystals, the magic soon becoming ever present in the room.

Griffin couldn’t help but close her eyes, to feel the magic surge through and around her, coming around the room. It was a feeling almost akin to flying or when her magic had first came in.

Exhilarating. Breathtaking. Intimate. She was one of them.

His presence became closer, his forehead touching hers as the magic slowly began to fade. He brought his arm away, revealing the wound had been healed and turned into a mark. His Mark.

A “V” within a circle, a deamon face peering through. Just at her forearm. His. One of them.

She felt dizzy, giddy, tired. Everything seemed so much more alive. And his presence… Normally he was easy to spot in a crowd anyway but now… Now his presence practically screamed at her. Valtor grinned, placing a hand at her waist, a hand in hers.

“Griffin Sylvane, you are one of us.” There was a cheer amongst most in the crowd, the magic still surging around. She couldn’t help but grin, having found more than she had hoped…

 

\---------------------------------------

 

She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. She chuckled a bit at how it was still racing. “Guess tonight was more invigorating than most of the ceremonies?” She half-teased. Valtor gave a grin, pulling her close.

Both were a bit tired from the magic release during the ceremony… And from the more private ceremony they’d had at their base.

The sex had always been great, but there was something different about _knowing_ she truly belonged to him now. He traced over the mark on her arm, making her shudder and sigh. He chuckled. “Still sensitive?”

“Aren’t you?” She kissed his jaw, pausing. “Though I suppose I could stay up a little longer, see if I become desensitized.” She teased, a challenge. Valtor rolled them so he was on top of her, pinning her arms.

He smiled. “Who am I to say no to that?”


End file.
